


Anytime, Steve

by Amster



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1930s, Because I can't write anything without adding angst, Bucky is 17, Bucky is so in love, Fluff, French Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mild Angst, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Smut, Steve is 16, Steve knows exactly what he is doing, Virgin Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:27:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amster/pseuds/Amster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most nights Steve and Bucky shared a bed. </p><p>No one ever really talked about it. It was just a fact of life the same way the sky was blue or that FDR was president. Any time Bucky spent the night at Steve's apartment or vice-versa they slept together.</p><p>***<br/>Or: Bucky has been pining for Steve for years, and don’t be fooled- Steve knows exactly what he’s doing (because he’s been pining for Bucky too)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anytime, Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Well I finally nutted up and got my first Stucky fic written. So here it is. Some 1940s pre canon smut because I'm trash. 
> 
> This is fic is not beta'd, so I offer my sincerest apologies for any grammatical errors.

Most nights Steve and Bucky shared a bed.

No one ever really talked about it. It was just a fact of life the same way the sky was blue or that FDR was president. Any time Bucky spent the night at Steve's apartment or vice-versa they slept together. It only made sense because because there wasn't enough space to go around at either apartment, and everyone quickly got tired of stripping the pillows off their ratty furniture to build a makeshift bed for someone who already basically lived there. It had long since stopped bothering Bucky’s ma and Steve's ma had never cared to begin with. So they shared a bed.

Tonight, it was Steve's bed.

Bucky was splayed out on top of the covers, reading a superman comic by the dim lamp light and acting like he didn't notice while Steve, perched like a bird on the edge of the mattress, drew him. (Steve never drew him when he thought Bucky was looking, so Bucky pretended not to look.) Truth was, though, Bucky was always keenly aware of Steve.

From the way Steve laughed, his whole face lighting up like a Christmas tree, to the way the sun shone on his honey hair, Bucky was always tuned in to Steve. He knew whether or not Steve trembled from rage or from fever. The rhythm of Steve's breathing was the rhythm by which Bucky lived and he knew just when to start worrying about the rattle in Steve’s chest. Hell, he knew when Steve's blood sugar got too low because Steve turned into a little demon when he was hungry. And Bucky knew when Steve got tired.

Steve was wilting even now, his slim shoulders slumping as he bent over the sketchbook in his lap. The lamplight cast his milky skin in a warm glow so that even in the dimness Steve was the brightest thing in the room. Bucky bit down on his lip, wishing for all the world that he could learn Steve's skin with his tongue. It was in these moments, when everything was at peace and the silence was thick between them that Bucky wanted to kiss him the most. Except, Bucky didn't just want to kiss Steve. He wanted to _taste_ him.

It was wrong, and Bucky knew that. But it didn't seem to matter that it was against the law, or that it was against the church, or even that he would lose Steve forever if anyone found out… Bucky couldn't make himself stop wanting Steve.

“Would you stop staring at me?”

Bucky blinked and turned his gaze back to his comic. He hadn't realized he'd been staring.

“I wasn't staring. I was just watching you draw.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve roll his eyes and Bucky smirked to himself.

“You're a good artist,” he added, just to bug the other boy.

Immediately, Steve snapped his sketchbook closed as blush blossomed across his cheeks as if he had been caught looking at dirty picture. It was so goddamn beautiful. It was all Bucky could do not drag Steve into his lap and press kisses against the warm, flushed skin.

“Shut up,” Steve grumbled, shoving his sketchbook under the bed.

Chuckling in amusement, Bucky to tossed his comic aside.

“You're such a diva,” Bucky teased before patting the bed beside him. “Come on, let's get to sleep. Your ma will kill the both of us if she gets back from her shift and we’re still up.”

“Ma’s doing the graveyard shift tonight. She’s not getting home until the morning” Steve replied because, apparently, his natural instinct was to contradict Bucky in some way. Even so, Steve got up and started to strip out of his shirt and trousers.

Bucky averted his gaze. His mind was already in the gutter tonight and watching Steve change wasn't going to help matters. So instead he climbed out of bed himself and began undress as well.

Fabric rustled softly in the quiet room and Bucky bit down on his lip, feeling sick and guilty because he was still thinking about Steve’s silken skin and the delicate bones in his wrists and his slender-fingered hands. Because no matter how he tried, he couldn't stop thinking that Steve was beautiful.

Once they were in their undershirts and shorts, the two boys settled into bed like they did most every night, Bucky shutting off the lamplight before tucking himself around Steve and drawing the covers up around them like a cocoon. They fit together perfectly; it was almost like a Steve-shaped hole had been carved out of him just so they could fit together while they slept. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s middle, hugging him as close as he dared. Steve's sweet summer smell surrounded him, heady and intoxicating, and their bodies pressed together so that Bucky could feel each delicate bone and everywhere that Steve was soft.

Being close to Steve like this was getting harder and harder. But for all the heartache it caused him, Bucky couldn't bare to give it up.

Bucky was queer. It was the only way to explain the way he felt about Steve and their friendship that existed in some strange space between brotherhood and desire.

The older he got, the more curious Bucky got about men and about sex with men. Sometimes, late at night, he allowed himself to think about it. He imagined what it was like to be shoved into a mattress and to have a man fuck into him. Or, even more appealing, to pin a man down and push himself inside. Bucky wasn't afraid of either option. In fact, he wanted them both. So he was queer, he had to be.

But that didn't explain why he wanted women too. If he was queer, why did he like having sex with women?

Nothing made sense. Bucky wasn't sure if he was normal or a fag, and being around Steve just made him more confused. All he knew for certain was that Steve was more beautiful than anyone Bucky had ever known.

Maybe that was why the girls Bucky messed around with were always the slender and petite ones.

Steve's breathing was evening out, chest rising and falling steadily with the little wheezing noise he always made while he slept. Bucky dared to pull Steve even closer to him- too close to be anything but intimate. Eyes falling closed, he let his hand run over Steve’s stomach, over the fabric of his undershirt, and feel the slight softness there. Then he slid his hand back a bit, gently caressing Steve's sharp hipbone. He allowed himself to nuzzle against Steve's neck and breathe him in as his fingertips grazed along Steve's body through his thin underclothes.

“Feels nice.”

Bucky’s hand froze on Steve’s hip and he winced guiltily because he knew his touch was something just a little more than friendly, but he couldn't pretend like it hadn’t happened.

“Did I wake you?” Bucky asked, voice low and quiet.

Steve didn't answer, just snuggled into Bucky a little bit more. Bucky sighed in relief and laid his arm across Steve’s waist. Quiet fell again, thick in the air and calming. Soon, Bucky found himself drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Then Steve broke the silence.

“What's it like to fool around with someone?”

Bucky's eyes shot open, and he nearly jerked away from Steve in shock because Steve had never, ever asked him about sex before. But Bucky stayed still as he tried to figure out where this question had come from and what he could safely say.

“Bucky?”

“It's nice, Steve,” Bucky managed after another moment's pause.

“How is it nice?”

“I don't know… “ Bucky sighed, loosening his grip on Steve slightly. “It feels good. You don't have to think about anything. You can just enjoy being close to the other person. It’s warm… And comforting.”

“So it's like this?” Steve whispered, placing his hand on top of Bucky’s.

Bucky's breath hitched a bit and his heart beat a little faster. “Kinda,” he replied. The dynamic between them had suddenly shifted beyond a friendly intimacy, and Bucky was sure he wasn't imagining it. Steve was brushing his fingertips over Bucky's knuckles in a way that hinted at something more. Blood roared through Bucky’s veins, and the whole situation was suddenly too warm, too close and too dangerous. “What's got you so curious all of a sudden?”

“I've always been curious,” Steve replied softly, his fingertip brushing up Bucky’s forearm and leaving a trail of fire behind. “The only person I've been close to like that is you, Bucky.”

“Like what, Steve?” Bucky whispered.

Suddenly Steve was pushing back against him, pressing his tight little ass against Bucky’s lap. Bucky choked on his own breath and clutched at Steve’s hips. He didn't even think about it, just pulled Steve back against him and buried his nose into the nape of Steve's neck. Steve let out a soft little gasp, reaching back behind him to press his hand against the small of Bucky’s back, keeping them locked together.

The pressure was all it took. Bucky was already hard while he held Steve to him. Meanwhile, Steve was grinding back against Bucky, creating wonderful, torturous friction.

“Stevie, what are you doing?” He gasped, his voice sounding hoarse and wrecked even to his own ears.

They were right on the edge of something terrifying, something they could never come back from. And the twisted part of Bucky wanted to take the plunge and drag Steve down with him.

“I don't know,” Steve murmured, voice nearly as ragged as his own as he ground back against Bucky. “Fooling around.”

Bucky dragged in a starving breath and gently pushed Steve away. It took all of his strength, and Bucky's body already ached from the loss of contact. “You don't want to fool around with me, Steve.”

Even though Bucky couldn't see Steve's face, Bucky could sense his anger.

“Why not?” Steve demanded, flipping over so that he was facing Bucky. His bright blue eyes burned into Bucky even in the darkness. For the first time in his life, Bucky couldn't tell what Steve was thinking. Worse than that, he didn't know what to do about it.

The silence between them turned ugly while Bucky's mouth opened and closed over and over, and he searched for a way to explain himself. How could he explain that it would be wrong when it felt so goddamn right? All he wanted was to close the distance between them… Steve's lips were only a few inches away.

“I want to,” Steve pleaded finally, his voice breaking before he managed to get the words out.

It was too much.

Bucky reached out and pulled Steve to him so their bodies were pressed flush together, chest to chest. Then Bucky crushed their lips together hungrily. Steve gasped, but Bucky didn't pay attention, just reveled in the taste of Steve’s mouth, rich and sweet like mulled wine.

They kissed like they had done this a thousand times before- Steve languidly parting his lips and running his fingers through the baby hairs and at the base of Bucky’s neck. Meanwhile, Bucky licked into Steve’s mouth like he was allowed to, rubbing his hand over Steve’s narrow chest. It was better than any kiss he’d ever had or could have ever dreamed of. Soon, he was tugging Steve’s undershirt up and brushing his hand along hot, bare skin.

“Stevie,” Bucky moaned, sliding his leg in between Steve's so that their hips were slotted together. His lips moved away from Steve's and he began to mouth along Steve's jaw and neck. Steve was trembling against him and gasping out hitched little noises that made Bucky’s stomach clench.

Slender-fingered hands were roaming over Bucky’s body clumsily but tenderly, sliding up his sides, over his back, along his thighs, then cupping Bucky’s face and pulling him up so their lips could meet again. Bucky fell apart beneath Steve’s touch. Fooling around had always felt good, but it had never felt like _this_.

They rolled over so that Bucky was on top of Steve, hips pressed down so that he could feel every inch of Steve’s erection. Both of them were rock hard. With a low moan, Bucky began to rock his hips down against Steve’s.

Their eyes met in the darkness. Steve was staring up at him in a way he’d never seen before- desire bordering on reverence. Like Bucky was a work of art or something. Like the way Bucky looked at Steve when he thought Steve couldn’t see.

They spoke very little because since when had they ever needed words to know what the other was thinking? Together, they established a rhythm, grinding their hips against each other while Bucky pressed tender kisses everywhere he could. But if his mouth ever wandered too far away, Steve would eventually grab him by the back of his neck and tug him up to kiss him once more.

Steve's hands raked over Bucky’s body and tore at his clothes. He was a quick learner, and he soon figured out just how Bucky liked to be kissed; he worked his lips against Bucky’s slowly but ruthlessly while his hands continued to roam. Bucky groaned into Steve’s mouth, his cock throbbing in his shorts because Steve was really, really _good_ at this.

“Fuck!” Bucky swore.

Tossing his head back, Steve laughed his wonderful belly-laugh and stroked his artful fingers through Bucky’s damp hair. Warmth swelled in Bucky’s heart as he stared down at Steve fondly.

He was in love with Steve. That was the honest to God truth. He loved Steve to pieces and, for the first time, Bucky was not afraid of that fact.

Once again, Bucky claimed Steve’s lips, and he poured all the words he never dared utter into his kiss. Beneath him, Steve arched into his body, making Bucky’s insides melt and his brain go fuzzy. Tugging Steve’s underwear down, Bucky licked his palm and then wrapped his hand around Steve’s leaking cock.

Bucky stroked Steve’s length slowly, watching, enraptured, as Steve writhed beneath his touch. The noises Steve made were breathy, broken, and utterly beautiful. His face was just as stunning with his plump lips parted and his eyes screwed shut while he dug his fingers into the flesh of Bucky’s back like he was holding on for dear life.

After a while, Steve finally pried his eyes open and reached down in between them, shoving Bucky’s underwear down over his hips. Then Bucky’s mind went blank as Steve wrapped his graceful fingers around his dick.

They pressed their foreheads together, breathing each other in while they jerked each other off. Steve was so much better at this than any girl Bucky had ever fooled around with. He knew how to twist, squeeze and stroke. All too soon, Bucky felt heat coiling in the pit of his stomach. Luckily, Steve was teetering on the edge of release as well. Arching off the bed, he moaned and bucked into Bucky’s hand in shallow, jerky thrusts.

“Oh, God. You’re beautiful, Stevie,” Bucky panted before bending down to kiss Steve with all the love in his heart. “So, so beautiful.”

That seemed to set him off. With an incoherent cry, Steve came, spilling all over Bucky’s hand and his stomach before collapsing onto the bed. It was a gorgeous sight. Watching Steve come to pieces was enough to make Bucky come undone as well. Bucky gasped out Steve’s name as his release overtook him, his mind going blissfully blank.

When he came back to his senses, he became aware of Steve pressing hot open mouthed kisses along Bucky’s neck even though Steve’s chest was still heaving and his breath came in rasps.

Quickly pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead, Bucky rolled out of bed and rummaged through Steve’s laundry hamper for a towel. Once he found one, Bucky made quick work of cleaning himself up before crawling into bed again.

In the darkness and quiet, Bucky tenderly toweled cum off Steve’s hands and stomach from where he knelt between Steve's legs. There weren't words to describe how he felt other than: his heart ached for loving Steve so much. But he choked on the words even as they tried to push their way past his lips. As much as he loved Steve, Bucky would always protect him first and foremost.

Finally, Bucky tossed the sticky towel aside and collapsed on bed beside Steve, completely spent. Steve, whose breathing had finally gone back to normal, tucked himself against Bucky’s side, head resting on Bucky’s chest.

“Thank you,” Steve breathed, already half asleep.

Bucky smiled to himself, arching his neck to kiss the top of Steve’s head. “Anytime, Steve.”

It was late, and both of them were too tired to talk anymore even if there were a lot of words still left unsaid. So they slipped into slumber with their limbs tangled together, breathing each other in, racing hearts gradually slowing until they almost, _almost_ , beat in time.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, if you enjoyed reading this toss me a reblog [Here](http://suddenly-sherlock.tumblr.com/post/140225267362/anytime-steve) or [Here](http://suddenly-sherlock.tumblr.com/post/140244972262/i-finally-finished-writing-my-first-stucky-fic) and share it with your fellow stucky lovers. 
> 
> Also, I'm working on a longer, multi-chapter stucky fic that takes place post CA:TWS and it's very angsty. I've got four chapters written and two of those beta'd so I'll probably post that very soon. Be on the look out for that if you feel so inclined.


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